


as the world comes to an end, i'll be here to hold your hand

by trinitarias



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, And Some Tender Emotions, Canon-Typical Violence, Choi Soobin-Centric, Developing Relationship, Falling in Love at the End of the World, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mildly Antagonistic Acquaintances to Drift Compatible to Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Minor Choi Yeonjun/Kang Taehyun, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinitarias/pseuds/trinitarias
Summary: “I’d like to get to know you,” Soobin tells him.“We’ve Drifted. I think you know more than enough,” Beomgyu answers, easy as breathing, casual when it shouldn’t be.He presses his lips into a thin line. “Can we – try?”Soobin and Beomgyu learn each other, from Kodiak to Vladivostok.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Soobin
Comments: 35
Kudos: 95





	as the world comes to an end, i'll be here to hold your hand

**Author's Note:**

> • everyone is referred to by their korean ages.  
> • kaiju: giant monsters sent from another universe to wipe out humanity  
> • jaeger: giant robots, designed to fight kaijus  
> • cadet: a ranger in training  
> • ranger: jaeger pilots  
> • kaiju blue: kaiju blood, very toxic.  
> • conn-pod: control center/cockpit of each jaeger  
> • kwoon room: combat room  
> • drift: process that two jaeger pilots undergo prior to sync with a jaeger; it’s basically a mind meld.  
> • shatterdome: massive buildings located in large bodies of water, design and built to house all kinds of facilities related to the jaeger program.  
> • idols mentioned are from BTS, EXID, NCT Dream & LOONA.  
>   
> & most importantly, thank you to [mira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirababy/pseuds/mirababy) for being a wonderful beta. not sure what i'd do without you ( ´ ω ` )  
> now, i hope you enjoy reading!

I stood with my back to the ocean and waited for it to eat me –

yank me right into its throbbing belly.

That’s how I remember it.

hannah gramson.

After a childhood of fairy tales and make-believe, Soobin finds out that monsters are real. From San Francisco he remembers the light of the television hitting his dad’s face in the dark, deep-set worry lines and terror tinting his eyes a shade darker. It’s the only thing in the news for days. The death toll does not seem real; the creature they’re now calling _Kaiju_ and _Trespasser_ looks like a nightmare scraped from the deepest part of the world, from the kind of darkness that shouldn’t exist. The phosphorescent blue blood looks so bright on the screen he feels like looking at it for too long will make his eyes burn.

He learns new meanings for already-defined words; disaster used to look like scattered clothes and unmade beds, now it’s homelessness and muffled screams; loss used to be a misplaced pencil or a missed book, now it’s ripped homes, unrecovered bodies.

In 2014, he clutches his parent’s hands as they watch military officials and politicians from all over the world discussing– fighting – about what they’ll do about the monsters and everything is a blur – how can humanity face something so beyond comprehension, so unfathomable?

He is fifteen, the world is ending and he can’t do a single thing about it.

Stacker Pentecost’s voice rings clear from the TV, an unshakable memory to this day, _what will it take to grab this monster by the throat and drag him back to hell?_

If he were to pick a turning point of his life, it’d be this: Jasper Schoenfeld’s slight frame in the screen, eyes alight with something that looks like hope. It still gives him shivers to think about, history being written as he breathes in and out.

 _I might be able to answer that_ , he declares. _Together, all of us – we could fight those monsters and win._

The Jaeger program is a hopeful dream at best, a naïve endeavor and a waste of millions at worse. There are doubts. There are debates and there are protests all around the world, all asking the same question: how do you know it’s possible? How do you know it’ll be worth it?

And then, like a miracle, it works.

“Soobin-ah,” his mom says, cupping his face into her hands, the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes and knuckles engraved deeper than they should be by years of watching a silly, silly obsession grow into a sense of purpose that slowly but surely tucked itself neatly into his spine, made a home out of his bones. “You are not dying for anyone. Do you understand?”

In moments like these is when he realizes how much taller than her he is. His knees are bent ever so slightly to take her gaze head on; it’s everything at once: care and concern, pride and a love so strong it could make him choke. The sun will rise in two hours. It’s 2019 and there is a _kaiju_ attack every twelve weeks. Pilots die all the time. He’s leaving in ten minutes, his dad stirs tea in their small kitchen, making the place smell like lavender. Soft yellow light from their standing lamp washes the living room in nostalgia. They will water his plants, go to work and pretend to not think of the seabed as his grave.

“Not dying for anyone, mom,” Soobin repeats. “I promise.” It’s a silly thing to say; it holds no water, pretty words for no comfort. It still makes her laugh, wet and a little sad, too loud in their shared space. She kisses his forehead and he hugs her as tight as he’s able to. He doesn’t say _I love you_ , it would have the same weight in his mouth as _goodbye_. He hopes with all his heart she feels it.

Alaska is colder than he expected it to be. Kodiak is much more beautiful, too.

(The Jaeger Academy is a cluster of buildings and facilities, ranging from storm cloud grey, short edifices to round, cabin-looking deep ocean blue ones. The main building is tall and daunting against the mountains; a merge of concrete and glass daring him to step inside. There aren’t that many people around; it’s late enough for most of the staff to be asleep, all he can hear is a soft lull of voices and a mechanical hum. The wind picks up. He gathers his wits and walks in.)

Soobin’s first trimester in Kodiak Island are some of the worst months of his life.

Officer training is not the worst part, no. He can handle information in waves, dipping his feet slowly and letting himself sink into it bit by bit. Cadets drop from the program like snow until there are only ten or so people left – a small part of him is happy for not becoming attached to them and for the competition to thin out, a bigger part of him is heartbroken about crushed dreams and diminished hope.

The worst part is the Kwoon Room, not because of the intense drills, or the ridiculous training hours nor the uncomfortable feeling of sweat clinging to his skin when it’s already so cold, but because he feels – incompetent. Inadequate. He’s too tall, he swings the staff too hard, he’s too unsteady on his feet. In theory he knows it’s counterproductive, that self-pity and insecurity will be his downfall, but Huang Renjun knocks him flat on his back in fifteen seconds, Jeon Heejin in ten and he does not get up until Fightmaster Hyojin gives him a hand accompanied by a tight smile.

“You’re a very hard worker, Soobin-ah,” She tells him evenly when everyone has left. He stays back to run forms with her; away from pitying eyes and carefully avoiding the constellation of purples and greens forming on his forearms. “You will get this part of training sooner rather than later,” or else you’ll be kicked out of the program, she doesn’t say. The words ring loud and clear in his ears.

A week later, Fightmaster Hyojin introduces him to Choi Yeonjun.

“One of our brightest,” she proudly admits, handing him a staff. Choi Yeonjun is shorter than him. His presence though, is another matter entirely. He commands attention like an earthquake. “I told him about you and he was willing to help.”

He shrugs and absentmindedly spins the bo staff. It looks graceful, effortless. “This will be a really nice break from J-Tech and K-Science. Let’s see what you’ve got, Choi Soobin-ssi.”

Soobin’s back hits the mat at record time and Yeonjun tells Hyojin, “There’s a lot of work to do for this one, isn’t there.”

Salt, meet wound. He swallows, shakily gets up and bows. “I’d like to start our training now, Choi Yeonjun-ssi.”

Yeonjun looks at him as if he were assessing him. Cataloguing the parts of him that are worth anything to the program and the parts of him that need work in order to be. Hyojin gives him a thumbs up paired with a shark’s smile and walks out of the training hall; leaving them to sink in the silence.

Eventually, Yeonjun speaks. “I hope you’re ready, Choi Soobin-ssi.”

He’s ruthless when it comes to training, precise and sure in his words and movements in a way Soobin isn’t sure he can be, powerful and severe – yet incredibly kind when their feet are off the mat. He’s seen so many people, officers and cadets alike try to gain his attention or approval, always asking for his time, the tug of him seemingly impossible to avoid. Choi Yeonjun: universally adored, permanently admired and always, always giving.

( _does he ever want something, anything?_ )

Soobin wonders if they might be Drift compatible; thinks about Yeonjun’s instructions and slow, deliberate steps in order for him to keep up, how he can never tell where he’s going to strike or what he’s thinking even when he’s put his mind to figuring him out and decidedly stops his train of thought.

“You should take breaks, you know,” Yeonjun tells him weeks later in the mess hall while they’re having lunch. The food today isn’t too terrible – rice, meat and potatoes, an apple, water and lemonade. The flavors are sad. Soobin misses home. “You forget about yourself sometimes.”

“It gets things done, doesn’t it?”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes, pats his arm lightly. “I used to take walks after dinner. The receptionists in shift at that time are always nicer for some reason. If they get weird just tell them I sent you and they’ll let you go.” He takes a sip of his lemonade and scrunches his nose in distaste. “Probably.”

“Probably.” Soobin repeats, just for the sake of it. Yeonjun gives him a look. “Okay, I’ll try. Thanks, hyung.”

And they do help. At night, the Academy is different – there’s some magic to it. Soobin doesn’t know if it’s the snow covered areas and the quiet, hypnotic noise it makes under his boots, how little he knows about Kodiak that finding something he hasn’t seen before makes him feel giddy or simply the blackness of the sky swallowing the grounds whole, leaving him under hundreds of stars he can’t name, as if he were the only thing left in the world. It’s a kind of comfort he’s not entirely used to.

He thinks about stupid things like how badly he wants home-made kimchi, about how he’d name his Jaeger if he ever got one, if he’d be allowed to at all; he wonders about the future in small pieces, never straying too far from _today_ and it’s not great but – it’s okay. It makes him feel much more solid, makes him breathe a little easier.

Final exams come and go. At which rate does _kaiju_ blood start to corrode a body of water? What’s the average size of a _kaiju_? What’s the average casualty rate of an attack without considering the spill of _kaiju_ blood? The knowledge sits heavy under his eyelids, flashing in hues of blue on his mind.

He walks out of the classroom and wraps all his exhaustion onto himself, falls asleep as soon as his face hits the pillow and doesn’t dream.

(The first attack that happens during his Academy days takes place in late May. Instructor Solji talks about _kaiju_ biology as she walks around the small, grey classroom. Her voice clinically calm as she verbally dissects their circulatory system piece by piece when the attack is announced over the intercom with a soft, melodic voice: _kaiju signature active, heading towards the United States. Estimated time of arrival is one hour_.

She freezes mid-step and mumbles something that sounds like _this wasn’t supposed to happen_.

The lesson’s stopped. She walks them to the Mess Hall, where it seems like every person in the Academy is watching it; some people are praying; some people are calling their loved ones – some of them simply stare.

Romeo Blue pummels codename _Fornax_ and the fight seems so one-sided, thinking about it makes Soobin’s head spin. Hope numbs his tongue and talking becomes a thing of dreams; something he can’t possibly do. _Maybe_ , he dares to think. _Maybe it will be over sooner than_ – )

Going home is a surprise. His mom calls him prior to the beginning of their break and before he can speak she tells him, “Soobinnie, we’ve enough money to fly you back. Don’t protest. We all miss you.”

He presses his lips together and swallows any complaint he could have (and he could have many) mainly because she sounds sad, a little desperate. So he says, “Send me the flight details, please?”

She’s the first thing he sees when he lands; customs checking his passport and ID from the Academy with a skeptical stare and quick hands.

“Welcome home, Soobin-ah,” she smiles and hugs him like they haven’t seen each other in years. “You look different,” she declares, stepping back as her gaze flits around his face, looking for cracks in a porcelain vase. He’s thankful she’s not looking anywhere else, reminds himself to wear long sleeved shirts for the small trip; he doesn’t want her to see the faint specks of blue and yellow in his arms, even if she suspects of their existence.

The first days are odd – he feels like a stranger in his own home; it seems too bright, too unreal and soft. His room is exactly as he left it – the same dark blue comforter in his bed, the same books piled in his nightstand along with his plants; still healthy and upright. Light filters through the curtains, soft yellows and deep oranges whisper to him _welcome home_ and he feels suffocated.

His bag stays by the desk, packed. He spends as little time as possible in his room. On the very first day, he finds his dad in the kitchen and asks him if he needs help with anything. He gets a flick to his forehead and a small smile along with a _go rest, the trip must’ve been tiring_.

He’s restless; tries to read left-behind books and finds his eyes floating past the sentences, tries to watch music shows and is horrified to see Jaeger pilots and _kaiju_ as concepts. He briefly considers hanging out with his high school friends and realizes he doesn’t really have anyone he was close to, not really.

Soobin decides to follow Yeonjun’s advice at home too and takes walks around his neighborhood, categorizes the changes in it: the swing set in the close-by park is now blue instead of red, the neighbors have more plants – and they’re well taken care of, which makes him smile. There are not so many children running around anymore. It’s a lot more silent, feels like a newly carved space formed in his absence, one he doesn't fit anymore.

It should hurt. Somehow, it doesn’t.

On the back of his mind is the shadow of knowing they can’t afford to do this again. Soobin tries his best to show everyone the better parts of him; baby of the family or dutiful son, depending on the time or the day or on who’s in front of him.

It was easy, before. It’s harder now.

“Have you made friends?” his mom asks one evening when they’re cooking dinner together, his dad setting the table and swaying to a beat only he can hear. With her back turned to him and the dawn light bathing her in gold, she looks just out of a picture book. He can imagine the expression in her face still.

There’s a group chat in his phone named _Jaeger PILOTS 2K19_ , the latest message a blurry picture of Heejin in a fluffy coat, pointing at Chaewon and laughing, and there’s Yeonjun’s millions of stickers in his private chat reminding him to bring back some real kimchi since _everything in Alaska is flavorless and I’m tired of it_.

He’s not lonely. But they’ve always worried – being accepted into the Academy wasn’t easy; it took all of his time and consumed his younger years with the intensity of a typhoon. He didn’t have time to be lonely back then, and he isn’t now.

She finishes chopping the scallions and adds them to the sundubu-jjigae as he stirs, clockwise, slowly. Tries it and hums. “Yes. Do you want to send them a picture? I think they’d die if they saw what I’m eating right now.”

She laughs and they take the picture, two matching smiles along with a spoonful of stew. The moment he sends it his phone starts pinging but he leaves it aside; he can check it later.

“Soomin will be coming tomorrow with the girls,” his dad tells him just as he comes in and wraps his arms around his mom’s waist while she hums a familiar song Soobin can’t quite place. It makes him happy, seeing them like this. “She misses you as much as her girls do. Soohwan is coming with her.”

He brightens up at that. “I can’t wait to see them! They must be so tall now…”

“Not as tall as you, Soobinnie,” he winks.

He expects Soohwan to be as serious as ever and is surprised when he’s not – he gives Soobin a toothy smile and a crushing hug, and it’s like his colors have come alive. He wonders what made him change so much, so quickly. Soomin is as beautiful as he remembers her to be, with her glittery eyes and easy smile. Eunjoo and Minjoo run to him and wrap their little arms around his legs, trapping him in place, giggles tinkling bells in his ears.

“Dongsaeng,” she says with mock seriousness. “Let’s go have a good time and make some memories.”

He makes a face before she’s close enough for a hug. “I have great memories, thank you.”

“How dare you lie to me?” she steps back to look at him, searching for creases on his expression. She stops, seemingly satisfied and gives him a light flick on his forehead. “You’d never do anything fun for yourself if I didn’t tell you to!”

 _Get your head out of the books, Soobinnie_ , she used to say when he was fourteen and she was in college, bright eyed and determined _. Relax! You’re so young, go hang out with your friends_ she’d say when he was fifteen and she was bringing love home. _People won’t stop suffering because you take a break, Soobin_ , she’d say when he was sixteen and she was kissing his forehead goodbye.

It’s not like he ever listened to her. He was always just fine.

“Whatever makes you feel better, noona. Where are we going?”

She exchanges a look with Soohwan and their eyes glint, stored mischief seeping out of their smiles at the same time. Soobin gulps.

They take him everywhere, as if he were a tourist in his own hometown. They go to the botanical garden and Soobin asks more questions than he ever has and names as many plants as he can while Soohwan takes pictures of the ones Soobin mentioned were his favorites, they visit the T-Light Park to find the largest seagull colony he’s seen, making the task of taking a video or photo almost impossible. On their walk off the shore he watches the light hit the water, painting it a million of swirling colors, as beautiful as a painting.

One afternoon, Soohwan sits by his side in the living room, mindlessly looking at the TV and says “You spend too long looking at the ocean, Soobinnie. Let’s look at something else.”

And he takes Soobin to Gwacheon’s Science Museum. He loses himself in the lull of loud footsteps and children’s laughter, in the weight of history and multicolored lights. The girls come with them and in the planetarium, Minjoo points major constellations out to him and Eunjoo tells him stories about planets and gods and monsters. After a long time, he thinks _I’m happy_ and feels it all the way down to his fingertips.

There’s a new pilot candidate in his group.

“This is Choi Beomgyu. He will be joining us from now on,” Conn-Pod Control Instructor Heeyeon announces without any other explanation. He glances around his class and notices how weary everyone seems to be.

Choi Beomgyu, narrow shoulders, hands clasped behind his back, perfect posture and pretty, pretty cheekbones bows and says, “Nice to meet you all. I hope we can be good friends.”

Soobin knows he won’t last a week.

(Except, Choi Beomgyu builds a space for himself within the group so fast it’s almost startling; he laughs freely with Donghyuck and Chaewon, asks him and Renjun thoughtful questions and treats Hyunjin and Heejin like old friends. And it’s not just that either, he keeps up with their classes as if he’s been there since the beginning, back when they were grinded to dust and brought back to life with a breath. Soobin is a little bitter about it.

Beomgyu falters in the Kwoon Room, though. It makes him feel some sort of wicked satisfaction – he’s good, but not at their level just yet. He falls and stumbles and gets tired too quickly, too easily. He doesn’t understand how some of his classmates can lose to him; his moves are so painfully telegraphed it’s difficult to not see the flaws or the direction he will take. Steadily, he flourishes.

They’re not paired often – but he’s up 6-5. He doesn’t think too much about it.

He sees him training with Yeonjun, once. He’s clearly outmatched but he seems to take it in stride, with a laugh and a shake of his head, asking for one more round. When he takes his night walks, Soobin sees him in the Kwoon Room just as he returns; face serious and focused, hair a dark halo around his head. In the mornings, he’s not late for their classes but his uniform looks sloppy and he’s barely awake. Soobin clicks his tongue in disapproval and thinks _stupid, stubborn single minded boy_ and doesn’t care.)

“You can ask me, Choi Soobin-ssi,” Beomgyu says apropos of nothing one afternoon in the library. They have an exam on Drifting Theory tomorrow, 0800 hours sharp. He’s been in Kodiak for three weeks already; it feels like a lifetime and like no time has passed at all.

“Ask you what, Choi Beomgyu-ssi?”

Beomgyu fiddles with his dog tags, the kind every cadet gets after they’ve passed their first trimester. No one wears theirs until graduation. His eyes don’t leave Soobin’s when he talks. “How I’m here. Everyone’s already asked me – except, well. You.”

Soobin gives him a look. He’s never met anyone as transparent as Beomgyu, who might as well be a snow crystal in his palm. He wears his upbringing on his manners and posture, in the slight tilt of his nose when they’re in the mess hall, in the way he speaks sometimes, with authority someone so young shouldn’t have.

I know you’ve bought your way into the program, Soobin thinks. You don’t deserve to be here. Don’t talk to me.

“Thank you for offering, Choi Beomgyu-ssi. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable though, so you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Beomgyu’s disappointment flows out of him in waves. He does not leave; instead he opens his notebook and begins to read, mouthing the words as he does so. Soobin follows his lead, turning the pages almost, but not quite at the same time as him.

(The second attack happens on a stormy July night. The _kaiju_ , _Eridanus_ , drags itself towards Japan. In answer, Echo Saber is deployed with Tacit Ronin on standby.

It goes south in the blink of an eye. Echo Saber is down in three strikes – sinking into the sea in slow motion, sunlight glinting off its armor until it’s gone. Tacit Ronin finishes the job in an hour with Coyote Tango’s assistance. The interviews afterwards have the pilots visibly shaken and flinching; _Eridanus_ was the biggest _kaiju_ they’ve encountered so far. And while there were no major losses regarding civilians nor property, Echo Saber’s pilots are reported to not be in good condition and it shatters his heart. He wishes upon everything he can think of for their recovery – an eyelash, a coin dropped on a close-by well, a shooting star. It doesn’t make him feel any better.)

The mock Conn-Pod is one of the most detailed facilities in the building and it fascinates Soobin to no end. The room is painted in foam-white for maximum visibility, according to Instructor Heeyeon. Every inch of it has a button or a lever or a panel, for weapon management, cooling down, turning cameras and lights on and off and the list goes on. The thing is though, sometimes the buttons come in pairs and they must be pressed by both pilots for them to work.

A signal points towards where the escape pods should be along with marks towards the exit hatchers. In the middle is the operating system in much smaller scale –there are the pedals connected to the conn-pod’s floor, there’s the rig that will connect their spine to the Jaeger and around it, no more than six double desks. It seems this year they’re a little short on pilots. There are no windows, only the vague sound of humming when the heads up display whirs to life. Heeyeon walks around the room with a particular spring to her step, almost child-like in its nature. She explains every nook and cranny to an unsettling detail, with all the ease of someone who’s been teaching for years and still finds the material enchanting.

The _kaiju_ conflict scenarios though, are his favorite part of every lesson – risk assessment, time management, weapon management for every possible situation Instructor Heeyeon can think of and her creativity is seemingly boundless.

Beomgyu argues his points constantly; sometimes with a severe look in his eyes and a slight curl of his mouth, sometimes merely giving his own assessment of Soobin’s perspective, cold and detached, along with what he considers a better approach to the mission. It irks him as much as it gives him new things to consider and think about; Beomgyu thinks about things in a way he doesn’t truly follow, drawing little red dots on Soobin’s strategies until he can play connect the dots with his observations and form a perfect X on his plans. He’s detailed, sharp. If anything, he can trust Beomgyu to see past the holes in his methods and toss him a needle with a red thread to stitch them back together.

Soobin gives as good as he gets, can’t really help it; he likes watching the look on Beomgyu’s eyes when he’s pointed out more than a few mistakes and loves when he takes Soobin’s feedback and makes it a part of his own plans but – sometimes they can be too much. It’s impossible to not get carried away with him.

“Can you call Instructor Heeyeon?” Hyunjin asks Donghyuck, slumping in her seat. She hasn’t been gone for five minutes; something about Breach readings has been bothering her.

Soobin isn’t listening; Beomgyu’s in front of his desk, arms crossed and ice in his eyes, arguing about how the spread of _kaiju_ blue isn’t really a concern for this particular situation and he’s wasting his time by worrying about stupid details instead of doing anything worthwhile. Soobin sucks his teeth in. Doesn’t interrupt him. Let him talk, let him be wrong this time – “I don’t want to listen to them _again_ ,” she moans.

Donghyuck begrudgingly gets up from his seat and as soon as he’s out of the door, Heeyeon walks back in. He looks like a cat that’s got the cream, she doesn’t look happy.

“Everyone, I will check your reports and inform you of your scores during our next class. You may leave.”

Their classmates walk out of the room in a blur, leaving them alone in no less than a breath. Heeyeon gives them a flat stare and it’s enough for them to stand straighter, taller. She purses her lips, looks at Soobin and does not pull her punches.

“Choi Soobin-ssi. You’re incredibly empathetic and don’t think I haven’t noticed you have the lowest collateral damage inflicted on scenario discussion – but you also have the highest time taken for all of them. In real life, time is of essence. I know it’s hard to think like this, but in order to be a good ranger you have to use your time wisely.”

It stings. There is nothing else to say but, “Yes, sir.”

“Choi Beomgyu-ssi. You have a clear idea of the course of action that should be taken and I applaud you for it, but you are not taking any margin of error into account whatsoever. Everyone makes mistakes. You have, you do, and you will,” Heeyeon tells him, not unkindly. Beomgyu grimaces, almost imperceptibly. Repeats, _yes sir_.

She softens, after. Squeezes their shoulders briefly and says, “Both of you have a lot of potential for piloting and I would be displeased to send either of you to J-Tech or K-Science. You pass for now. Next time this happens, I will fail you both. Do you understand? Dismissed.”

Yeonjun knocks twice as a warning, opens the door slightly at the third knock, and from the gap he says, “Soobin-ah, let’s go take a walk.”

It’s after dinner; the sun hasn’t set yet. Soobin has been running his hands through an old _kaiju_ psychology book and taking a few notes, blues highlighting how _kaiju have been proved to react more violently to single units than paired Jaegers_ and pinks making sure he remembers that _it is believed there is a direct link between aggression and closeness due to the perceived threat_. He places the book on his desk and answers, “Okay. Let me get ready.”

He gives him a quick smile. “I’ll wait for you at the reception desk.”

The halls are quiet when Soobin leaves his room, his footsteps echoing loudly on his ears. Most cadets spend their evenings in the training hall or studying by themselves; space for sleeping is exclusively reserved for the end of the trimester breaks.

Yeonjun looks distracted as he guides Soobin out of the building. The Academy is surrounded by trees and bird song for miles, the sounds of the town a mere breeze passing by. Grass crunches under his boots and they walk until he can smell the brine of the sea. They make their way close to the shore; less than fifteen steps and if they wanted to, they could feel the water. It looks lovely in the evening light, purples and oranges dancing together as the waves hum a calming lullaby.

He bursts their bubble with, “Hyung, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his face with both hands. “I just wanted a break,” he breathes out, arms sagging, eyes on the darkening horizon.

Soobin looks at him, waits.

“Listen, Soobin-ah,” he says in a rush. “I talked to Hyojin noona about some things and. Okay. I recommended Beomgyu as your first choice for a co-pilot.”

Soobin – doesn’t know what to do with that particular piece of information. He simply looks at Yeonjun, asking without asking, _what the fuck?_

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yeonjun says, holding his gaze. Soobin wants to shake him, do something, anything. “I’ve worked with you two and I _know_ you’re going to be good together.”

His face must do something because Yeonjun’s expression goes sour. The tide is rising, slowly but surely.

“I could be compatible with you,” he fires back, feeling his fingers curl into themselves, his nails dig into his skin. The words sound childish to his own ears, petty and whiny just for the sake of it. “Why –“

“Soobin-ah, you can’t keep up with me,” he murmurs very gently, grabbing a sleeve of his jacket and giving it a single tug, stopping their walk. Soobin feels the fight leaving him and tries to hold on desperately, but the pressure of his nails fade slowly and a sigh is building up from his lungs and waiting to escape from his lips, if only he allows it to. Just like that, it’s over.

“I’m being tested with someone else,” he confesses. “His name is Kang Taehyun.”

Yeonjun seems to come alive by just saying his name, a light turned on the back of his eyes making them glow. “One of the youngest graduates of the program. He’s in Tokyo with J-Tech right now but he’ll be here next week with the engineering team that’s coming to Anchorage to help with Gypsy Danger’s repairs.”

He bites his lips. Messes his own hair. His eyes wander from left to right, never settling on a single point for more than a few seconds. Soobin realizes he’s nervous and can’t quite believe it. “His drop rate is the same as mine and – our scans are different but Dr. Min told me he thinks we’d be a good match. I really think he’s the one for me.”

That’s – incredible. Choi Yeonjun, with thirty drops and thirty kills for his individual simulation score, one of the most skilled graduates of his generation, has been left to gather cobwebs and count stars in Academy grounds simply because he has no co-pilot. Soobin swallows, pictures how hard it must be to watch his class and now Soobin’s make their ambitions come true while he stays, stagnant and motionless, watching the clock tick or the sand move until the feeling is buried so deep he can’t remember how heavy it was on his chest.

He thinks about Echo Saber’s pilots, how they’re currently in the ICU after the last attack. No one knows when they’re going to wake up – if they’re going to wake up, if they’re going to be able to pilot her again. He can see uncertainty and hope and _want_ mixing in Yeonjun’s face and it’s impossible to berate.

( _do you ever want something?_ )

The sun sets. Soobin sighs, feels lighter for it. “Early celebratory cookies from Java Flat? My treat.”

Yeonjun smiles, easy and earned, bumps their shoulders together and says, “Sure.”

The Academy thrums with energy during Drift compatibility tests. It’s a torch being passed, a coming of age, a before and an after. It finds him anxious and expectant, running in circles in his head during the night before. 0700 hours, Kwoon Room; General Kim’s sharp, analytical gaze accompanied by the constant click of Dr. Min’s pen against his clipboard.

Beomgyu goes first simply by virtue of his name. General Kim announces, “Cadet Choi, you may pick your first opponent.”

Soobin steels himself for it. And Beomgyu does not disappoint him. “Choi Soobin.”

General Kim hums in approval and gestures for Soobin to join him in the mat. Beomgyu hands him the staff, a comfortable weight in his hands by now, smooth and warm to the touch. They meet in the middle and bow. Under his breath, Soobin says, “Good luck.”

He gets a brief look and a small smile in response. Clear as glass, his eyes say _I don’t need luck_. Slowly, they walk back to the edges of the mat.

“Four points to win, Cadets. You may begin.”

Soobin doesn’t move. Beomgyu begins to circle around him slowly. He doesn’t take his eyes off him; notices the lack of movement from his wrists, the relaxed set of his shoulders. Not going to attack just yet, then.

He takes a step forward, then another one. Sees Beomgyu grips his staff harder. Feints to the left and aims for Beomgyu’s right knee.

He blocks it and moves back, immediately lunges at his neck from the right. Soobin parries the blow and knows he’s going for his left leg now, and blocks it. What he doesn’t expect is the repetition and Beomgyu gets his first point by striking his calf hard enough to bruise. _One-zero_ , Dr. Min’s voice buzzes in the room; clipped and short.

Beomgyu grins, returning to his initial stance, resetting. Soobin follows. “Everything okay?”

He lunges for Beomgyu’s right shoulder only to hear the crack of the staves against one another, unnaturally loud in his ears. One strike to his left is side-stepped and another one to Beomgyu’s ribs is blocked. Soobin twists his staff just behind his right knee and pulls, making Beomgyu fall flat on his back. He presses the end of it against his chest, right under his sternum. His breathing is a little too ragged, his cheeks just a little flushed. “Better than that.”

Dr. Min says _one-one_. They reset.

Time slows down. Soobin’s vision blurs around the edges, making Beomgyu a single fixed point in his visual field. Soobin sees him as overlapped images; knowing what he’ll do from the way his fingers curl on his weapon, the set of his shoulders or the way he slides towards him, footsteps soundless and sure on the mat.

Two-one is a strike on his left shoulder, two-two is a failed attempt from Beomgyu to make him fall ending on a jab to his stomach. Three-two leaves him breathless from a quick stab to his solar plexus, three-three is a hard dig on Beomgyu’s ribs and Soobin thinks _now I’ll get you now I’ll_ – and flips him over, his the staff centimeters away from Beomgyu’s forehead. He stares up at Soobin, bright eyed and breathless.

“We’ve seen enough,” General Kim says. He claps his hands together, smiles. “First pair of the day. Congratulations, you’re Drift compatible.”

The cheers are deafening.

(Soobin does not leave the Kwoon Room. He stays rooted to the spot, watching Heejin and Hyunjin spar as if they were dancing, graceful and delicate in all of its violence and Renjun and Donghyuck moving as if they were mirrors of each other, always just on the edge of breaking. There’s electricity in the air, the anticipation from before becoming something grander. He looks at them and wonders, _is that what we looked like, too?_

He can tell Beomgyu is looking at him every so often, no more than five meters away from him. He’s doing the same – glancing at him exactly when he’s not paying attention.

What they never told him about compatibility tests is the desire to know more. To take on someone you didn’t expect to be compatible with, really look at them and wonder why them? What is it exactly about you and me that makes us work like this? It’s wanting to pry yourselves open and find where you converge and differ, to look for an answer flowing in their veins, etched on bone or built from memories. Ah, so that’s why. This is exactly why we’re like this.

They’re moving closer to each other; barely noticeable, undeniable. Like the moon pulling the tides.

When Yeonjun is called to the mat along with Kang Taehyun, a sharp eyed, pocket sized-boy, he can feel how the atmosphere changes from buzzing electricity to the smell of ozone, an incoming thunderstorm. It’s almost like the crowd wants them to work as much as General Kim, Dr. Min, or the fighters themselves. Beomgyu, breathing right by his side at this point, gasps when he sees Taehyun. Soobin doesn’t wonder about it.

And watching them he knows they belong together. The only way to describe them is – beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.)

Truth to be told, Soobin doesn’t know if he wants the neural handshake to fail or not.

He knows it’s possible – compatibility is a potential between people, a hushed maybe, mere suggestion. It’s not down to a science or art just yet. The Drift could slip past their fingers like water and his fears, insecurities and thoughts could live forever in Choi Beomgyu’s head. The image of failure makes knots grow in his stomach, twisting, tangling and surging up to his throat, making him choke on air. The thought of success weights down on his mind like an anchor.

When General Kim clasped his hands together and brightly announced, “All pairs, I will see you tomorrow at the Drift Sync Testing facilities at 0700 hours. Dismissed,” Beomgyu ran from the room without looking back. He disappeared for the rest of the day and Soobin wondered and wondered and wondered.

The Drift Sync test facility is small, close to the main building. Its walls are the same raincloud grey and suffocating smooth concrete. Inside, machinery hums, chalk dances on blackboards and technicians move swiftly from door to door, barely sparing a glance to any cadet.

Soobin’s sitting in the uncomfortable couch of the reception-like hall, drumming his fingers on his knees and waiting for Beomgyu, blinking away the last residues of sleep and getting used to the harsh, yellow light. Renjun and Donghyuck are a seat away, sharing ear pods and talking in hushed voices, Heejin and Hyunjin are already inside, along with Kang Taehyun and Yeonjun. It’s 0650. He should be here by now. He sighs and taps Renjun’s shoulder, asks if he’s seen him.

“I did. He left earlier than me,” Renjun tells him. His gaze turns questioning, “Why don’t you text him?”

Before he can come up with an excuse, Donghyuck chimes in, “Soobin-ssi, let me know if you want me to kick his ass for being late.” Renjun rolls his eyes.

“He beat you 4-2 the last time you fought, please don’t do that to yourself.”

“That’s exactly why I need to do it, Renjun-ssi. Do you not care about your co-pilot’s honor? Which is your honor now too?”

Renjun narrows his eyes. Takes his ear pod off and hits him with it. Beomgyu walks in, Soobin breathes out.

He looks just like he does in the Kwoon Room; sharp, dark eyes and slightly pinched expression. His uniform is pristine. He walks towards Soobin with purpose and plops himself by his side, crossing his legs and mumbling _good morning_ under his breath.

Renjun gives him a fleeting look and shakes his head.

Ten minutes of stifling silence have passed when a uniform from J-Tech walks towards them. “Choi Soobin and Choi Beomgyu? Please come with me.”

Their Neural Bridge Operator introduces himself as Kim Namjoon. He’s all gangly limbs, bright eyes and excitement pouring into his every word, reminding them of the security measures being taken, the side effects of a first Drift such as fatigue and headaches along with the expected recovery time according to their weight and height as he walks them to their designated station. Two chairs, a dashboard between them and nothing else. General Kim stands by the room and they bow at him, mirror-like. He smiles at them like he knows something they don’t.

“Have you talked about who’s going to pilot the right side yet?” Namjoon asks, motioning them to come in. The dashboard comes to life with a few button-presses, blue and yellow and red blinking innocently at them, waiting.

Beomgyu gives him a look, lighting fast. Soobin raises his hand, “I will.”

Namjoon nods. “Please sit. I’ll get us started.”

The technicians move fast between them, gracefully. They’re connected to so many wires Soobin loses count of them and their functions, Namjoon’s explanations for each of them a blur on his mind; heart rate and blood pressure, breaths by minute and brainwaves. The Pons feel strange – they’re heavier than they look, an uncomfortable pressure squeezing his skull, waiting to crush it.

Perfectly choreographed as the technicians walk back to their workstations, the A.I informs them, “Initiating Neural Handshake.”

“In three.”

Soobin glances at Beomgyu from the corner of his eye. The only thing he manages to see is pure, unsheltered resolve. Back ramrod-straight, hands splayed on his knees, eerily still. He notices Soobin looking and the trance breaks – he blinks owlishly at him, as if waking up.

“Two.”

“You have to let go,” Namjoon reminds them, not for the first time. “Try not to hold onto any memory, just let yourselves fall and you’ll be okay.”

“One. Neural handshake initiated.”

He closes his eyes just before he feels the jolt of the Drift and sees –

A hand on his ankle, correcting its stance. _Just like this, Beomgyu-yah_. Laughter from his family during a winter day, his breath white smoke rising until it’s gone. _Yes, you got it! My baby brother’s going to be just like his hyung, a hero._ A smile that won’t reach his brother’s eyes, Russia, hundreds of butterflies, dog tags pressed against his palm and a secretive smile, bitter coffee. Mountains of books. Kang Taehyun _. It’s you, it’s you, I found you_. Grief clawing his lungs. A hand pushing him towards an empty casket, _you don’t have to do this, Beomgyu-yah. You can stay here._ A clenched jaw, frustration coloring his veins black. Strumming an out of tune guitar. Alaska, again. He sees himself through Beomgyu’s eyes; polite, distanced, strangely cutting at times. Later: dedicated, focused. In between moments of kindness. He thinks, oh. He’s been watching me.

Soobin sees himself in the cracks, barely paying attention to his own memories. His first time seeing cherry blossoms, a trip to Jeju when he was six, his mom’s laughing face as she jokes with his siblings, a first crush followed by a tentative first kiss. San Francisco, bright blue in his nightmares for days, the fear following him for weeks after the first attack. Manila, accompanied by grim faces, screaming and discovering the meaning of _radiation side effects_. Sydney, and the realization that it is not going to stop. Reading and memorizing any information he could get his then small hands on; anything about the Jaeger program, _kaiju_ and the PPDC, about the dead and the living left behind; sensing fear and grief shift into purpose, watching pilots on TV and feel his heart soar. Alaska. Yeonjun. Beomgyu.

Their eyes open.

“Neural handshake holds stable in approximately twenty seconds. Drift compatibility rating is 85%,” the A.I says in its cold, clinical voice. Irrefutable.

General Kim looks satisfied. “Congratulations again, cadets. Starting next trimester, you may Drift with a Jaeger. Dismissed.”

Beomgyu looks pale. Namjoon babbles around them, taking their Pons off and saying _congratulations_ as the engineers complete the task of taking their wiring off. Soobin stands on wobbly legs and offers him a hand; he looks confused for a moment but at last, he takes it and Soobin pulls him up easily. The Drift flutters between them; butterfly wing-soft, present.

“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Soobin tells him matter-of-factly, no room for argument, not dropping his hand. Beomgyu swallows and nods.

No one pays attention to them; he gets a glimpse of Heejin and Hyunjin and manages a weak wave. He doesn’t know what to say. The obvious would be _I’m sorry_. By the time they’re out of the facility, it’s mid-morning yet the sky remains dawn-colored and the breeze pecks harshly at his nose and cheeks, painting them poppy-red. They’ve stopped holding hands, but are walking so close together their shoulders keep bumping. He chooses to go with, “I didn’t know about your brother. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You don’t know much about me,” Beomgyu shrugs weakly. Careless, like it doesn’t matter. “Thank you.”

Soobin bites back the impulse to spit out _that’s a lie_. He’s been collecting little details about Beomgyu since he stepped in front of him, like a child picking seashells from the shore and he feels a little foolish for not noticing before. I know you prefer coffee to tea, I know the difference between your polite laugh and your real one, I know you rub your nose when you’re embarrassed, I know – so much. And yet so little.

“I’d like to get to know you,” Soobin tells him.

“We’ve Drifted. I think you know more than enough,” Beomgyu answers, easy as breathing, casual when it shouldn’t be.

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Can we – try?”

Something shifts in the curve of his eyes, in the slant of his mouth – and Soobin understands. They haven’t been very open to one another; every olive branch Beomgyu’s given him has been pushed away and Soobin built a sea-glass wall between them since the beginning; he wasn’t going to break it. A few days ago it didn’t matter. Now the pieces lie fragmented at his feet, reflecting all of their missed chances. He can’t pretend things will be the same; can’t really expect them to be.

They could just be co-pilots and leave it there but Soobin – doesn’t want that. Right now, asking for more than a simple _let me get to know you_ would be selfish, undeserved. Still, it’s a start and he’s going to try.

He places a hand on Soobin’s forearm, stopping their walk. They’re not back into the main building yet, their pace slow, careful and a little awkward as to not heighten the side-effects. “You didn’t want to, earlier,” he muses, moving to stand in front of him, still gripping his arm.

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I was wrong about you, I thought –”

“I know what you thought,” Soobin flinches. Beomgyu tilts his head slightly to the side, considering him. “It’s fine.”

“It’s really not. Hey, Beomgyu –“

“I’ll think about it,” he says, finality coloring his voice, ending the conversation. “See you later?”

He disappears for the rest of the day; gone without a trace. Soobin tries to keep himself from thinking about him; calls his parents and gives them the news, tries to sleep and finds he’s too restless, tries to read and fails. He makes himself dizzy by circling Academy grounds and watching leaves drop from trees and fly away, finds that everyone from his class is occupied with their partners in some way or another, runs drills on the training hall as a last resort. Nothing quite works.

“Are you going home?” Beomgyu asks him later, in the mess hall. He hasn’t touched his dinner. By his side, Heejin and Hyunjin sit closer together than usual, heads bent towards each other and whispering while Renjun and Donghyuck trade food from their plates, coriander for cauliflower. Kang Taehyun and Yeonjun are nowhere to be seen. Neither is Chaewon.

Remains of yesterday’s excitement fizzles in the air like a sparkler about to burn out. The food is good for once; Kodiak’s typical salmon cooked just right for today, along with roasted potatoes and still-bland rice. The chatter is a calm current, with laughter ricocheting from every corner of the hall.

“No,” Soobin answers, waits for the shoe to drop.

“Neither am I. Not this time, at least.”

He hesitates for a second. “Do you want to –“

“Yes.”

They spend their time learning each other in the Kwoon Room. Soobin learns his body’s angles and shifts; side to side and parry to strike. Beomgyu understands his furrowed brows, the arch of his arm as Soobin’s staff stops a breath short of grazing his throat. In the course of two days their spars go from ten minutes to an hour, two, three until one of them can’t lift their arms anymore.

When it gets too difficult to breathe, they explore Kodiak. It’s a small town – everywhere is within walking distance after the Academy grounds are a blur in the horizon; it’s ten minutes to the best coffee in town, a dimly lit, small place adorned with fairy lights and bear drawings all over its blackboard menu, twenty minutes to the Baranov Museum, with its large, glass windows and impossibly small gift shop filled with trinkets that go from typical to incredibly odd; thirty minutes to feel Mission Beach’s current tickle their feet and play with the waves.

Beomgyu buys an instant camera from the only mall in town. It looks old, package dusty from being shelved for so long. Soobin could draw a heart or a star on it if he wanted to. He lifts his eyebrows at Beomgyu, motions with a hand at it.

He shrugs and gives him a tight, small smile. “We should make memories! And polaroids are the best for that, aren’t they?”

They visit the harbor and Beomgyu chases a few seagulls and children laugh at him while Soobin shakes his head and takes his photo. Walking back to the Academy they find a small market; eight stands at most. One of the older men tells them it’s a tonight-only occasion, they’ll move on to Chiniak tomorrow morning.

“You’re really lucky to come across us today,” he says, smiling crookedly. “Come on, take a look around.”

A few people gather on every stall, bartering or checking knitted scarves, locally made honey, old pamphlets about sailing and bears, how to locate themselves within the ocean with the help of the stars or how to recognize medicinal plants. The wind kisses his cheeks and the sun clings to its last moments of the day, leaving behind rosy prints.

Beomgyu gets a piece of berry pie, some herbal tea and a pamphlet about bears. Soobin gets a serving of oysters and he makes a face, signaling his horror at his choices. He rolls his eyes and thinks that in a few months, if they graduate as partners, Beomgyu will develop a taste for seafood because of him. Maybe Soobin will start to like coffee, too.

Nearby, a handful of picnic tables sit prettily just under a few trees. The seats are cold, though not bitingly so. Sitting side by side, they finish their meals. Something stills between them.

Beomgyu clears his throat. “You saw Taehyun, right?”

It’s the first time they’ve verbally acknowledged the whirlpool of memories of the Drift. Soobin is staring at the surface of the sea, waiting for it to envelop him.

His legs jiggle. He makes himself stop, lays his hands on his thighs. “Yes. Do you want to tell me about it?”

He sighs, hiding his face into his hands. “I think I need to, really.” He fiddles with his dog tags and Soobin watches his fingers move, his throat tight. Those are his brother’s. Beomgyu breathes out. He waits. “I was supposed to graduate with his class but my brother died and I just – couldn’t come back.”

Soobin’s hands grow cold. “I’m so sorry.”

“Again, it’s okay now.”

 _You look so sad still_ , he doesn’t say. The next time they Drift he’ll know and by then Soobin is sure he’ll have enough words to explain why it’s important. But for the moment – “don’t you want to Drift with him?”

His smile is small and bitter, just on the side of self-deprecating. “I think he hates me – and I’d feel too guilty. I left without saying anything. It’s my fault he wasn’t in a Jaeger earlier. I know how good he is,” he plays with the hem of Soobin’s sweater, absent-minded. “He could’ve helped save a lot more people, cut a lot of losses, you know?”

Soobin fingers ghosts over his hand just in case of – something. “Beomgyu, you can’t blame yourself like that, you were grieving. I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “But I’m not sure I want to find out.”

Soobin makes a mental note to make them talk, wonders if Yeonjun is thinking of doing the same thing.

(“Choi Soobin-ssi,” Kang Taehyun says with a small bow when Soobin meets him in the mess hall during breakfast, a day or two shy of them leaving for Tokyo. “My partner speaks very highly of you. I was wondering if you could tell me some of his deepest darkest fears.”

Yeonjun, sitting by his co-pilots side, is looking at him like he’s betrayed him. “He’s terrified of sharks and of people stealing his food,” Soobin answers conspiratorially. “You’re going to have to kill them for him.”

Taehyun nods, all seriousness and gallantry. “For him, I’d do anything.” And he cracks up. Soobin decides right then and there that he likes him, with his doe eyes and sharp humor, a striking balance to Yeonjun’s crescent moon eyes and soft, soft heart.

When Beomgyu sits down with them, there’s a strained look on his face and a flash of something in Taehyun’s. He exchanges a glance with Yeonjun before leaving them alone, mumbling some excuse or another. The most obvious trick in the book, yet when they return there’s an ease to their posture that wasn’t there before.

“In case we don’t see each other again, please take care of Yeonjunnie hyung,” he tells Taehyun when they’re both done eating. Beomgyu and Yeonjun are too engrossed in their conversation to pay any attention to them. Sooner or later, they’ll know it took place, but for now it’s for their ears only.

Taehyun eyes him curiously, like he’s just said something unexpected. He smiles, something that feels deserved, and with a knowing glint in his eyes he says, “Take care of him, too. He’s a bit – you know.”

He’s not what Soobin expected at all, that’s what he is.)

He takes Beomgyu with him on his evening walks. He’s not bad company – stays quiet for most of them, wanders away to take pictures, lingers too close like he’s expecting something and doesn’t really know how to ask for it.

On the fourth or fifth evening, they talk.

Beomgyu’s family has been supporting the Jaeger program since 2014, his brother a part of the first generation of pilots stationed in Vladivostok. His eyes cloud over and his voice tightens. He doesn’t cry. Instead, he tells Soobin about how he went there once, about a lighthouse, the sunset and how blue the ocean looked. Soobin lets him talk, never says _I know, I saw it._ When Soobin tells him about the nightmares, about his family or about the cherry trees in Jeju, Beomgyu doesn’t say it either. He asks instead, _did you go to the canola field? It’s very pretty._

There’s a certain vulnerability to voicing what they already know about each other because of the Drift. It becomes realer, somehow. Learning the meaning of a memory again, together.

He takes the lead during their walks only once, guiding Soobin towards one of the mountain paths, fifteen minutes away from the Academy. “I used to sneak out and come here sometimes,” he says like a secret.

Close to the peak there’s a small flower patch, yellow with some splotches of pink, hidden just between a few trees. He can see the ocean from the cliff, a murmur in the back of his mind. There’s only a hint of salt in the breeze, invisible if he doesn’t look for it. It’s a lovely view. Beomgyu asks him to sit while he kneels in front of Soobin, takes a few pictures of him in the middle of the flower patch, asks him to put some of them in his hair.

“No,” he frowns. “Not like that, here – let me?”

He nods. Beomgyu’s immediately in his space, a slight frown on his face. He takes the flowers off Soobin’s hair carefully, fingers feather soft, setting them by his side. Soobin doesn’t watch him; he chooses to look right past his ear, at the sky. It’s losing its baby blue, pink slowly taking over along with slews of orange and gold as company. The cloud in his direct view looks vaguely like a small bird. A bluebird, maybe. Every time Beomgyu moves, there is a very slight _clink_ sound. He is very close. He smells like lavender.

He drags himself a few steps back to admire his work and nods, pleased. Soobin lets out a breath, relief blooming in his skin. From behind the camera, Beomgyu asks him, “Why do you want to be a pilot, Soobin hyung?” _click_.

“I want to give people hope,” he answers honestly. Beomgyu puts the camera down, tilts his head to the side. “Marshal Pentecost and most of the pilots on TV always made me feel safe – like things would be okay. I want to be like that, too.”

“Are you a hopeful kind of person, then?”

He swallows, touches a few petals on the field without picking any. “I’m working on it.”

Beomgyu looks at him with something edgeless in his eyes, gone in a flash. The breeze picks up and tousles his hair, making Beomgyu move towards him again to fix it.

“Maybe you should blow a dandelion,” he says, thinking out loud, stepping back. “It would look pretty. Make a wish, hyung.”

“Fine,” he sighs. Beomgyu smiles, small, brilliant and true. _I wish for happiness and peace_ , he thinks as he blows and watches the seeds fall, fall and sway away in the breeze. The camera goes _click_. Soobin lets his shoulders drop.

Beomgyu sits and cards through the pictures gently, like they’re something to be cared for, precious. He looks content. “Did you know you can actually eat those? They’re very sweet.”

Soobin makes a face, wrinkling his nose. Beomgyu laughs, loud and clear. His laugh is so stupid. It goes _ha ha ha_ with a few small gasps after. It suits him. “Why don’t you eat them if you find them so sweet then?”

“Take my picture and I’ll eat at _least_ two,” he snickers. “Then we’ll take a few together.”

He eats three dandelions and two spring beauties in total. Soobin tells him he’s disgusting and in answer he gets a mocking _you’re disgusting_. He scowls in an attempt to hide a smile, doesn’t know if it works and isn’t sure if he cares, really.

Back at the Academy, they write in big, bold letters their names and date behind the photos. Soobin thinks they look happy. Cozy. The flowers look a little blurred, like tiny stars in his hair. His mom would love one. “This was a good idea, Beomgyu,” he hums. “Thank you for today.”

Red blooms in the shell of his ears and he scratches his nose. “You’re welcome, hyung.”

At the end of the week, Heejin demands their presence on the beach for a group gathering. She grins at them, all trouble and no shame and tells them _I’ve got the booze_. Chaewon puts her foot down on getting snacks, so they do: stopping at a near-by store and getting their hands on anything they can afford. Soobin walks the aisles by her side, holding their basket as he considers her.

Chaewon looks so sure of herself, with her purposeful stride and wild smile he wouldn’t know she’s upset if he didn’t see it for himself. She won four-two against Renjun, four-one against Heejin and Donghyuck. For the moment, she has no co-pilot.

Away from prying eyes, he asks, “Chaewon-ah, what will you do?” as carefully as he can.

She stops running her hands through the cheapest chip selection and turns to look at him briefly, gives him a sad, resigned smile and shakes her head. Tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks at anywhere but him. “I already talked to Heeyeon noona. She said I could take Yeonjun oppa’s place here and – wait, like he did. I think I’m going to.”

The store is empty besides their group. Over the speakers, a song plays softly. It goes, _and I'll meet your eyes for the very first time, for the very last._ Chaewon keeps digging, looking. Soobin says, “You’re the best of us, Chaewon-ah. I’m sure you’ll –”

She cuts him off with, “I’m going to be okay, Soobinnie. Just, promise to get those fuckers for me, okay? Until I can do it.”

“I’ll make you proud.”

“Soobin-ah! Chaewon-ah! Where are you? Let’s go,” Donghyuck yells from an aisle or two away. They trade a look and Soobin zips his lips, motions throwing a key away. She laughs, and they follow his voice all the way back to the group.

Heejin guides them through the Buskin River State Park, past a lake and a forest trail until the familiar tang of salt hits his nose. There’s no one else at the beach and the bonfire’s already set, a ring of rocks set around a heap of twigs, logs and some dry seaweed, far enough from the shore to keep the tide from destroying it.

She looks back at them and smiles. “Welcome to the party, cadets!”

The fire starts, grows and flickers; snacks go around the circle they’ve arranged themselves into and Renjun’s playlists envelops them in its warm embrace. Soobin sits by Beomgyu’s side and listens to his friends chatter, breathing in smoke and salt that swirl together in his throat and make a home out of his lungs. He feels – content. The sun sets in slow motion. There’s a splatter of stars already visible and the sea reflects lines of orange and yellow into Soobin’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. It’s the prettiest picture he’s seen in Alaska.

“Cheers for ending the apocalypse!” Heejin yells later, cheeks dusted pink and infectious laughter twirling together with the sound of the waves lapping the shore. Donghyuck hoots and by his side Chaewon and Hyunjin clink their drinks together. Renjun shakes his head, a fond smile painting him in a softer light. It strikes Soobin how young they all are; how many things they’ve already lost and will continue to lose if the _kaiju_ keep coming.

Against the fire and the star dusted sky, Beomgyu looks like a vision, something holy. Soobin smiles at him, small and present, and says, _cheers_.

They move into a double room on the first day of their last trimester. Pons training and Drivesuit Testing begins as well.

Drivesuit Testing is mostly theory; nothing but memorization and recognition. There’s no need for them in an individual environment and for that he is grateful.

Individual simulations are much more difficult than Soobin expected them to be. Everything feels like it’s too little too late, his records barely records at all. Their first week is awful by every standard; there isn’t a single satisfying score. Their Jaeger Assault Specialist, Seo Hyelin, never raises her voice at them. Somehow, that makes it worse. Heeyeon grills them on situations and courses until they can mumble each one in their sleep with nothing more than a finger snap as an incentive.

She says, “If you don’t get at least 60% success rate on individual simulations you might as well drop out. You’re in the last stretch of the journey. Remain focused, everyone.”

It’s barely enough for them to recover from the first week; seven consecutive failures cutting off their margin of error short of one or two more.

They don’t sleep much. Instead, they read each other’s notes out loud and discuss the reasoning behind their actions. Beomgyu’s perfectionist streak hurts him more than helps him. Sometimes he gets so frustrated his eyes grow cloudy, heavy enough for tears to fall out. He lets him; leaves if Beomgyu wants him to, comes back to him with new solutions and a water bottle along with anything he can sneak out from the mess hall. Red-rimmed eyes and warm hands say _thank you_ every time, without a fail.

(Sometimes, he stays.)

Soobin’s insecurities are an internal bleeding that makes his head ache and his hands shake. There are times when Beomgyu makes him talk about it with a single look, there are times when he pushes and pushes and pushes – he’s grateful for him. For how he keeps trying, even when Soobin tries to rebuild the wall between them, knowing it’s useless yet intentionally prickling his fingers with the sharp pieces lying at his feet.

(he thinks about the flower patch, about how carefully Beomgyu was with him when he let him and – stops thinking.)

At the end of the month Soobin sees his name and Beomgyu’s by the simulation room; 70% and 66,6% success rate on their individual evaluations. Renjun and Donghyuck look dead on their feet, swaying from left to right, eyes half-closed and pale. Hyunjin, Heejin and Chaewon don’t look much better, hair messy and yawning every few minutes. He supposes they don’t either; with their dark circles and full two hours of sleep on their backs.

And they’ve all passed. There’s no energy for a celebration but Heeyeon pats their shoulders, gives them a proud smile and tells them to take the night off the books and sleep. It feels like permission and praise at the same time; a _you’ve done well for yourselves_. _You’re allowed this one small priz_ e. The last thing he sees before he falls asleep is a Polaroid of the bonfire.

“Hey,” Beomgyu calls, moments before their first simulation together. “Are you okay with piloting the right side? I know I kind of pressured you into it the first time but –” he closes his mouth and looks at Soobin, lips pressed together and eyes wide, waiting.

“If you want to try the right side, you can,” Soobin answers easily. “But just so you know, I’m okay with being on the right side. I wouldn’t have said yes back then if I wasn’t.”

“Well,” Beomgyu concedes, “you’re always ready to argue with me for anything so I guess that makes sense.”

Soobin rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you the same, Choi Beomgyu-ssi?”

“Me? I would never!” he quips back, fluttering his eyelashes. Soobin presses his lips together and forces himself to frown, trying to hide a smile and failing.

The Drivesuit is familiar and foreign at the same time. He thinks it’s the pressure, how it encapsulates his body so tightly his own cells can barely move.

The Drift feels like an echo of itself in the simulation; close enough to the real thing to feel the jolt as Beomgyu’s memories begin to flow into him, far enough for it to be less intense.

He closes his eyes and now Soobin sees a house, endless corridors and footsteps passing by, a tense smile, dog tags rattling, a starry eyed boy and an impossibly light kiss with a burning hand on his neck. A freckled girl with a smart smile, her hand in his and trading secrets in the dark. _Of course I resented you, but –_ Sorrow blurring greys and blues into darker shades, a hand reaching out for him and missing by centimeters.

There are the books and the articles, there’s the weight of his dad’s hands on his shoulders saying _are you sure? Are you sure?_ He recognizes their new year’s celebration from 2018, pink fireworks blooming into yellows and oranges dots as the clock moves closer and closer to twelve and counting down out-loud by his family’s side. Remembers reading that in some countries people make twelve wishes exactly before midnight strikes and tries to do that as well – the only ones he can remember vividly are peace, happiness, health.

Beomgyu breathes out, Soobin opens his eyes.

“Neural Handshake complete,” announces the A.I. “Synchronization achieved in fifteen seconds. Drift compatibility rating is 85%.”

Soobin can feel them grinning through the Drift, excitement bubbling and surging up from their insides until it becomes a shared look, a quirk or their lips, similar yet wholly different. From the intercom, Heeyeon says, “Let’s get down to business, boys. Go get your kaiju.”

Echo Saber’s first deployment happens in early September, a few days before Yeonjun’s birthday. All Soobin sees is the aftermath – the _kaiju_ , codename _Vritra_ , was cleanly disposed of, not an ounce of blue blood making its way to the Tokyo Bay and the reports of the attack don’t point towards any major loss, materialistic or human. A complete success, as expected of one of the best pilot pairs out of the Academy.

The immediate post-attack interviews are a hectic, with Yeonjun and Taehyun looking both frantic and starry eyed, unable to focus on any journalist or camera for a considerable amount of time before trying to find each other’s eyes again as if looking for something – completely forgetting they’re on international television. The media has a field day, calls them either _Tokyo’s Brand New Heroes_ or _Japan’s Sweethearts._ He texts Yeonjun every article he can find about them and laughs at the range of his answers: from proud to bashful to outright embarrassed.

Days later, he watches their formal interview with Beomgyu breathing next to him, thigh to thigh. With Taehyun by his side, Yeonjun looks stunning; radiant in a way Soobin didn’t know he could be. The host says something Soobin doesn’t quite catch, but the melody that comes after is unmistakable. It’s happy birthday. Yeonjun’s blush is clear even with all the makeup he’s wearing and him trying to hide his face. Taehyun makes it impossible since he’s holding one of his hands and laughing, laughing and singing with the crowd when he’s not. There’s hope ingrained on the way they look at each other and it makes him smile, to see them so happy, so alive.

With less than a month left of training, they step into the Anchorage Shatterdome. Compared to the Academy, the Shatterdome is a maze of industrial concrete twined so intimately with metal it’s difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. It’s so close to the ocean that the smell of the sea follows him all the way to LOCCENT Mission Control where it’s barely a ghost of itself, buried between hundreds of bodies and tons of machinery. Marshal Stacker Pentecost stands tall, close to the glass pane that overlooks Gypsy Danger.

The first thing he says after General Kim introduces them is, “General, these are very few pilots.”

“Yes. But they’re very good. Trust me.” General Kim replies breezily, brimming with confidence.

Marshal Pentecost takes his time to look at each one of them, like he’s memorizing their faces. “Cadets, today you will be Drifting with a Jaeger for the first time and I want you to remember that we are here to save the world. We are here to be the foundation for the future. Word of advice; be mindful of yourself and your partner. Do your best and we will see you in a month in deployment. I wish you nothing but success.”

His voice reverberates through Soobin’s bones as if they were hollow; shaking them back to reality. Beomgyu’s pinky finger closes around his and he holds it tighter.

LOCCENT’s Mission Controller, Tendo Choi, takes them to the bay. He points towards all the Jaegers, explains their specifications and gives them some stories about their pilots. He walks with the ease of someone who knows himself.

“Sadly, all of our Jaegers have a nuclear core. You’ll be Drifting only once, so the side effects won’t be serious – headaches and nausea are pretty much guaranteed, but sometimes people get rashes. You’re pilots though! That should be nothing to you.”

They go one by one just in case something unexpected happens – can’t have two pairs of pilots chasing their memories, after all. They’re all wearing the circuitry suit in the blink of an eye and Soobin feels himself being dragged into Gypsy Danger’s Conn-Pod for their first try.

It’s different from the one back in the Academy. Much bigger, for one thing. The HDU shines in bright blue, signaling for it to be waiting for the pilots. In the middle of it is the movement system, directly under where their feet are supposed to be: metal-made pedals anchored to the Conn-Pod’s floor and above it are the rigs that attach each pilot’s spinal clamp to the Jaeger, making the movements between human and machine flow seamlessly.

Beomgyu gives him a look as the technicians finish strapping them to each of their stations. Soobin answers him with a small smile, dimples visible through the helmet and notices how he relaxes immediately. It’s terribly endearing.

From the intercom, Tendo Choi says, “Good luck, cadets. Now, initiating Neural Handshake in fifteen seconds –”

It takes them less than ten minutes. It sets a standard for the rest of their visit.

No one chases their memories or gets lost in them. Marshal Pentecost looks mildly impressed by the time he’s giving them the usual _good work, cadets_ speech and waving them goodbye. They all take it in stride, trying to not look too proud in front of him. Kim gives Pentecost a look that clearly says, _I told you so_. It’s enough for now.

On their way back to Kodiak, Soobin calls his parents. Their faces on his phone are a little blurry, bleary-eyed from sleep and undeniably happy. He shows them around Anchorage’s airport along with Beomgyu, whom his mom adores on sight – she tells him _oh, you’re very handsome!_ And his dad asks him _is our Soobinnie treating you well?_

He gives Soobin a fleeting look and says, “He takes care of me really well. Thank you for having such a good son.”

They’re both charmed. Beomgyu’s eyes glitter, his smile grows softer. Soobin looks away.

They ask him more questions like _where are you from? Do you like Alaska? Are you eating well?_ And he’s happy to answer them as they walk, showing them the animal sculptures, the two polar bears on a glass cage and the northern lights simulator.

Eventually, their flight is called. With a _let’s talk soon, Soobinnie_ and _goodbye, Beomgyu-yah, it was nice to meet you!_ They disappear from the screen. The intercom rings again, _this is the pre-boarding announcement for flight KO11 to Kodiak_....

Beomgyu touches his elbow, petal-like in its softness and says, “Let’s go.”

Soobin brings canned coffee for their study sessions. Beomgyu eats steamed clams and hums to himself, smiles.

He sees more and more of himself in every Drift through Beomgyu’s eyes: a smile hiding behind his hand, dimples, fingers slowly turning the pages of a book, how his hair frames his face – how Beomgyu feels about it. There’s a new undercurrent to them, thoughtful and warm.

Outside of their shared headspace, considering it too deeply makes him squirm.

It’s not like he doesn’t see him as well – how the tips of his hair curl around the back of his neck when they’re sweaty and tired from an afternoon in the training hall and all Soobin wants is to reach out and softly smooth them out, his stupid laugh and his eyes with the millions of stories Soobin’s been reading in them.

He’s known Beomgyu’s good looking since he laid eyes on him, some kind of universal truth added to his perception of the world: sunflowers follow the sun, the full moon comes once a month and Beomgyu’s pretty. Fairy-lights pretty, flower pretty.

Now Soobin looks at him and his insides feel like a recently shaken snow globe.

He’s read about how the Drift feels; there are hundreds of papers and a few more interviews about it, with pilots side by side and smiling news anchors with pearly white teeth, wearing pristine suits and asking, _so how was it, the first time?_

Imagine this. You’re jumping into the sea without knowing how to swim and trusting the current to carry you back to the shore. You’re rising to the highest point of the rollercoaster, giddy yet unsure if you will enjoy the sudden drop. You’re in the middle of a storm, heavy drops stuck in your eyelashes blurring your vision and you try to power through it, blink them away – when you notice something in the distance that looks like a shelter. And it could be, if you get to it. If you reach for it.

Like falling in love. And it stays with him, echoing through his mind over and over again when he looks at Beomgyu. Like falling in love, like falling in love.

“Soobinnie hyung, come here, please?”

Their room is a carbon-copy of every other double; bunk bed, shared desk, a small window. When grey light hits his eyes in the mornings, he knows they’re late for something. They’ve added a few things: their polaroids hang above their desk along with trinkets Soobin’s started to bring back from his walks, something he didn’t think to do before. Some rocks, a few flowers. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, little things that were always there.

He gets up from their desk and sits by his side. Beomgyu threads their fingers together loosely, watching their hands move together while Soobin looks at him, his face down-turned and thoughtful, eyelashes casting the smallest shadow on his cheeks.

Minutes pass in a haze. He looks up, cheeks peony-pink and says, “I like you.”

His ears roar. The tide rises in his throat. Beomgyu’s fingers caress his own like a wave.

“I know how you feel too,” he admits with a little smile, sheepish. As if it was a secret murmured just between Soobin and his heart and not howled at him whenever they Drift, even when he tries to hold it back, knowing it’s futile. “You don’t have to do anything; _we_ don’t have to do anything. I understand. I just want to tell you that we’re okay and — you don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be happy, hyung.”

_I can’t accept this._

“Just,” he says, dropping Soobin’s hand. He doesn't know what his face is doing but worry begins to seep into Beomgyu’s eyes. “Can I,” he pressed his lips together, frowns. Soobin swallows, can only imagine what speaking feels like. He gives Beomgyu a shaky nod.

He shifts closer and kisses Soobin’s cheek, lingering and soft, so sweet it makes him close his eyes as he tries not to choke. His eyelids feel heavy. Beomgyu sighs and Soobin feels his hair against the crook of his neck, a butterfly kiss there.

He moves away. The sheets rustle. He sounds lighter when he talks. “Open your eyes, Soobinnie hyung.”

Contentment suits him. He’s hiding something with one hand behind his back; the other hand attached itself to Soobin’s once again. He curls his fingers onto Beomgyu’s as the tide recedes, leaving behind the trace of phantom-salt.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I don’t know what it is, but. You know. Here.” And he hands Soobin a small, round red box. It’s soft to the touch. Beomgyu looks at him expectantly and he opens it. It’s a necklace, silver and thin, with a smiley face on.

Beomgyu’s face falls. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

He laughs, disbelieving and manic. “I think it’s pretty. Can you –”

“Sure. Turn around?”

Soobin hands him the necklace and shifts, eyes on their desk, books, and pictures. Beomgyu moves closer and then there are hands around his neck, fingers securing the clasp. He taps the lock twice and Soobin turns around, fiddles with the charm’s smile with his thumbs, tracing its shape, looking at Beomgyu who’s looking at him – too softly, too open.

“Thank you,” Soobin manages to choke out.

“Don’t mention it, hyung. And you were right, it’s pretty.”

Their Neural Handshake grows steadier, longer-lasting, after. It makes their scores rise considerably. Heeyeon shakes her head at them while Hyelin watches them curiously, noting their improvement with a bright smile and passing them snacks after class. Their final score shows them a neon green _86% success rate_ , with 26 kills out of 30 drops.

Seeing it makes them trade a knowing look and laugh. Their classmates roll their eyes at them.

“I want to go to Russia,” Beomgyu tells him a week before their graduation, when they’re just about to fall asleep. Heejin and Hyunjin already have their assignment; they’ll be stationed in Hong Kong until the war is over. Donghyuck and Renjun are waiting for theirs; Panama is almost a sure bet for now. Soobin doesn’t say I know, doesn’t say we go where we’re needed.

“We should talk to General Kim about it,” he says and Beomgyu nods, satisfied.

They don’t have to – when General Kim tells them about the new Jaeger being finished in Vladivostok he says _, it’s got your names printed on it, boys. Go make me proud_.

He pats their back once, twice and Soobin’s heart is in his throat for the rest of the day.

In the end, graduating from the Jaeger Academy looks like this: being too tired for a proper celebration the night before, a group hug in Anchorage’s airport, pressed pictures against empty hands, several promises that go along the lines of _call me! don’t forget to message me!_ and the knowledge of not seeing any of them again were anything to happen settling heavy over their shoulders and making them hold onto each other for a little longer, a little tighter. Two by two they are gone, Renjun and Donghyuck have to take two flights and Heejin and Hyunjin are taking three.

“Ready to go, Choi Beomgyu-ssi?” Soobin asks, knowing the answer already. He holds out his hand for the taking, and Beomgyu laces their fingers together.

“No,” he laughs, a little wild. “Let’s go.”

Vladivostok is not so different from Kodiak, all things considered. It’s definitely bigger and there is much more life to the city. He thinks of Beomgyu’s memories, the lighthouse in Tokarevsky, where it looks like you’re walking on water when the tide is high and it feels like you’re standing in the center of the world and ready to be swallowed by the sea all at once, wearing a bright yellow shirt to go to the butterfly house and being swarmed by them, laugh and laugh and laugh, watching some of them hatch and think pretty, pretty; the Chinese market, where languages blur and melt together to make everything sound distinct and unique, music a mere hum in his ears and people smiling everywhere. A larger hand closed around his, his feet aching from so much walking and the sun in his eyes at all times.

If he lets himself indulge – he’d say he already knows half of the city, he’d say these memories are his as much as they are Beomgyu’s, now.

Marshal Hyun welcomes them in the airport along with a boy who looks close to their age; he towers over the Marshal almost comically.

“Welcome to Vladivostok, Rangers,” he bows and shakes their hands with both of his. “This is Kai, unofficially part of our engineering team for Eden Assassin. He’ll show you around the Shatterdome and to your Jaeger.”

“Hi! I’m Kai, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he beams at them in English and bows, his hair bouncing around like it can’t contain its excitement. They exchange a look, a grin.

On the forty minute drive to the Shatterdome they get a small history lesson; it opened on December 4, 2016. All of their Jaegers have their pilots healthy for the moment, Hueningkai’s sisters’ pilot one of them, Eden Assassin. They briefly mention the loss of Solar Guardian and its pilots, never recovered from the depths of the sea.

Beomgyu tenses up, bites his lips. His eyes are bright. Marshal Hyun gives him a fleeting look from the rear-mirror as Kai keeps going. Soobin taps the beat of JeHwi’s _Dear Moon_ on the back of Beomgyu’s hand and slowly, he relaxes.

Marshal Hyun leaves them as soon as they arrive and the clean tang of salt floods his senses. Something about K-Science and how the Breach has started to behave differently as of late. He says, _welcome again, rangers_ , and disappears behind one of the million corners of the Shatterdome.

Kai claps his hands together, says, “Okay, let’s go!” and walks them further in.

Their room turns out to be closer to the mess hall than to the hangar. Kai lets them drop their bags and Soobin takes in their new place; washed in coppers and browns instead of blues and greys, soft yellow light bathes the room making it feel cozy. It’s bigger than the Academy’s, with two single beds, similar desk space and additional shelves.

In his mind, he’s already placed their shared belongings everywhere, marking the space as irrevocably theirs. Before leaving, Beomgyu places one of their polaroids on top of the desk and Soobin smiles at him.

“Jade Viper is our second Mark IV,” Kai says excitedly as he guides them around the hangar, seamlessly moving between the sea of people circulating each bay, voice rising above their chatter. The War Clock hangs above the entrance, its neon orange numbers making him bite his lips. Beomgyu points at every Jaeger they pass by, mouthing their names. “Her right arm has a plasmacaster and her left has a sword just in case. We wanted to build her a shield too but time got away from us. She’s just about ready, though!”

The crowd around Bay 04 is dressed in the same black jumpsuits, thick boots and deep blue gloves combination. There’s a key detail: engraved on every back is a bold _JADE VIPER_ , font sea-foam white, elegant and visible, green snake coiled between the letters. It’s such a simple thing, so meaningless and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet it tastes like victory.

Jade Viper is small compared to Cherno Alpha, Eden Assassin and even Nova Hyperion. She’s slimmer too; made for speed and flexibility, quick strikes instead of long-lasting fights. She’s as tall as a mountain, as every Jaeger is, but there’s something special about her.

She looks elegant, Soobin thinks. Beautiful, he can imagine Beomgyu’s voice saying. He’s talking to one of the technicians with Kai’s help, Russian and English mixed to make something understandable happen between them. He stares up and drinks her in; trying to memorize her details as he can – She’s theirs, after all. Deep green, almost black armor with jade highlights on the junctions of her limbs. Yellow light spills from her core into the catwalk, meters above him.

“Hyung,” Beomgyu breathes right by his side, moments later. Soobin glances at him out the corner of his eye and he’s looking at her with what can only be called reverence. Their hands brush. “She’s ours.”

He feels a little delirious, a little manic. Responsibility settles like a heavy crown on his head, making his temples ache. “Welcome to the Vladivostok Shatterdome, Ranger Choi,” he giggles, tangling their fingers together.

Beomgyu’s laugh is almost drowned by the sounds in the bay, metal against metal, hammers clanging and the loud rush of conversation all around them. With the sparks from welding and bright blue led lights, he looks exactly like Soobin feels. “Welcome to the Vladivostok Shatterdome, Ranger Choi.”

Routine washes over them like waves lapping the shore. Wake up, general training, breakfast, Kwoon room, lunch, check Jade’s Conn-Pod, Drift, report to LOCCENT, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Beomgyu looks a little lost in the spaces between waking up and leaving their room, his eyes clouded momentarily by sorrow. He stands even straighter, as if he could defeat his memories with the sharpness of his stance. Soobin’s not sure what to do for him – until he is. 

He does it before the Drift ruins the surprise. Walking back to their room after their morning session in the Training Hall, he places one of his tags on his palm and curls his fingers around it, catches Beomgyu’s hand and presses it into his. He gives Soobin a curious look and laces their fingers together.

On their room, Beomgyu lets go, looks. Realization is a lantern in his eyes. He takes off one of his own and hands it over to Soobin as if it was always meant to be this way.

The necklace he carries in his pocket, the tags around his neck. It brings him comfort, carrying little pieces of him around.

His posture relaxes, after. His smiles come easier, and Soobin basks in the shape of them, keeps them safely stored on the back of his eyelids.

Slowly, they meet the rest of the rangers in Vladivostok. Soobin has a very clear cut image of the other pilots; Lea and Bahiyyih Huening, Eden Assasin’s pilots, known to be foolishly heroic, sacrifice spoken in the language of _most deployed assist Jaeger_ , laughter in the face of monsters and broken bones. They meet them in the mess hall on their first day, all _congratulation_ s and _welcome to the kaiju killin’ squad, Jade Viper is almost as cool as our baby_ , _wanna bet how long until the next attack?_

They’re always sitting with Kai, always teasing him and laughing. He can see the family resemblance so clearly it makes him and Beomgyu laugh.

Nova Hyperion’s pilots, Pang Soyi and An Yuna are not only fiercely competitive with others but between themselves as well; he’s heard they keep tabs on how many times each of them has won a spar in the Kwoon Room and everyone in the Shatterdome knows who’s won every single time without fail – it’s easy to tell, either by Soyi’s gigantic grin or Yuna’s quiet, smug satisfaction. They’re home away from home, the roundness of their syllables an anchor. They know where the best places for Korean food are and as soon as they’ve made themselves free, Soobin finds himself by Beomgyu’s side, pouring soju for them and having kimchi stew, steamed dumplings accompanied by good rice for the first time in months.

(The city is a sight at night; buildings bathed in neon greens and pinks, the familiar tang of the sea hidden in the cracks of it; people walking in small groups and giggling without a care in the world. Soyi and Yuna walk ahead of them, their steps lighter outside the Shatterdome, their smiles coming easier. Alcohol makes Beomgyu’s cheeks glow along with his eyes; he’s the lighthouse Soobin’s been looking for. He thinks about kissing him that night, on the walk back to the Shatterdome. Thinks about how he knows the way Beomgyu likes to be kissed, lazy and unhurried, how much he enjoys being held and how he’d let him –

No.)

Aleksei and Sasha Kaidonovsky are Vladivostok’s backbone; made of diamonds and ice, inspiring and stone-faced, ready for anything the ocean throws at them with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement and a raised eyebrow.

When they officially meet Sasha Kaidonovsky he thinks she’s terrifying; but she puts a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder and says in heavily accented Korean, “I am very sorry about your brother. He was an excellent fighter,” shattering completely the image he had of her. She’s one of the kindest people he’s ever met.

He gets pictures from his friends from time to time and they always make his days brighter. Yeonjun and Taehyun at the Tokyo Sky Tree with city lights reflecting on their eyes; Heejin and Hyunjin in the Yuen Po Bird Garden, surrounded by bamboo cages and pale light, a blackbird perched on Heejin’s finger, a robin in Hyunjin’s; Chaewon’s full-teeth smile in Shuyak Island State Park, greenery all around her and one or two brown bears in the background, Renjun with Donghyuck wearing ridiculous sunglasses and posing by the big, colorful Panama sign in Cinta Costera, with the sea in the background and the sun making their skin glow.

He sends back their pictures from the Primorsky Aquarium, the exhibits painting Soobin’s smile a soft blue, Beomgyu’s eyes a shade lighter; from their dinner with Soyi and Yuna, captioned with _missing you all! Please send more pictures, love you._

Soobin finds himself in Kai’s company more often than not. He’s a firecracker of a boy, soft edges and strident laugh. In-between conversations, Kai lets it slip that he’ll be trying his luck to get into the Academy next April.

“Do you want to be a ranger, Kai?” Soobin asks him, elbowing his ribs playfully. They’re sitting on Jade’s catwalk, lunch trays on their lap and feet dangling meters above the floor. She looms over him like a promise.

“No,” he shudders theatrically. Soobin gives him a light smack on his arm and Kai smiles at him, cheeky. “I want to be in LOCCENT. I also want to live, thank you.”

“You know, if the _kaiju_ keep coming, we’re never going to live. Not really. Not fully.”

He thinks about it for a moment, takes a bite of his steamed bun. Here, the food is miles better. “Danger has always been there – it’s just easier to notice now,” he shrugs. “It hasn’t stopped people before, and I don’t think it will.”

Soobin eyes him, considering his words. He knows it’s true – though it’s still difficult to internalize. He walks on a tightrope between empathy and distance, control and guilt. The balancing act never stops being difficult, no matter where he stands, even with years of practice.

“Can’t deny they are a risk to humanity though,” he adds after a beat, his lunch almost gone. “So, I trust you and my sisters to save the world. Good luck!” he beams. Above them, sparks fly from Jade’s right arm, her road to completion almost realized. Tentatively, Soobin smiles back.

It’s been three weeks of relative peace when the alarms wake him up and the comm system blares Code Red. “Jade Viper, report to Bay 04. Activity has been reported at the breach, 0300 hours. _Kaiju_ , Codename _Lunabone_. Category 3, 2100 tons. Eden Assassin, report to Bay 08. Remain on standby.”

Beomgyu jumps out of his bed as if electrocuted. Soobin stands up slowly, letting the noise drown his nerves for the moment. When they leave for the bay, it’s shoulder to shoulder with their Jaeger’s jackets on, steps brisk and alert.

Arrival to the conn-pod is an exercise in control; letting the technicians work around them, a haze. The Drivesuits are black, compact, heavy and form-fitting; the spinal clamp knits them together to their Jaeger, the soul of her body resting on their shoulders and the helmet a cherry on top.

“Jade Viper to LOCCENT,” Soobin’s voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. No one mentions anything. Beomgyu joins in him saying, “Ready for the drop.”

The Drift is familiar, yet different. The undercurrent of danger shrieks in his mind, making him feel untethered while Beomgyu’s mind remains collected – Soobin sees his parents dancing and a funeral, pink carnations and hyacinths, Eunjoo and Minjoo playing with Soomin and Soohwan, Yeonjun drilling forms into his or Beomgyu’s body, Kai’s grease stained hands and Taehyun’s laughter, Beomgyu’s profile in the low, evening light and his own eyes, so dark and intense he can’t believe they’re his, all blended together in pale hues of blue. Beomgyu reaches for him from the Drift and together, they hold on.

He hears the words _left hemisphere calibrated_ along with _right hemisphere calibrated_ and staggers under their weight.

The slap of the helicopter’s blade roars in his ears; he feels himself floating along with Beomgyu as they’re taken closer and closer to the drop site, miles ahead of where the _kaiju_ signal was pointed at them.

The sea welcomes them in its calm, quiet body. If there’s something he’s grateful for is that the skies are clear tonight. If he had the time, he could point and name a few constellations, draw their shapes together.

Lunabone lives up to its name. Dark grey, visible craters around its thin body, glowing blue eyes and bright bone-white teeth, their only clues of its visual whereabouts until it bursts from the waves, water splashing everywhere, claws stretched towards their core and mouth open in an awful scream. They stagger back; manage to stay on their feet and push Lunabone back into the water. Someone from LOCCENT says something along the lines of _on your left flank! Stay on, Jade_ ; their ears ring with adrenaline, fear. Soobin says something along the lines of _yes sir, Jade online and ready to engage._

They think _activate weapons systems,_ confirm the command and her right arm begins to shift into the plasmacaster and starts powering up as Soobin places it in front of them. Lunabone surges again from their front. They’re braced for it this time, holding steady as it bashes their right shoulder with its teeth and clutches them with its limbs. Pain blooms slowly. Soobin activates the cannon, releases the shot as close to it as possible just as Beomgyu shoves the _kaiju_ away with an uppercut from their left, its wails swallowed by the loud splash of the water. Blue blood splatters on their forearms and they grit their teeth from the burn; their eyes swim in red and blue as the HUD informs them of the inflicted damage.

On the intercom, Marshal Hyun tells them it’s not dead yet. They unsheathe the sword, load the plasmacaster, wait. It comes from their back this time and they manage to duck and shift away as it comes crashing down on them again, its claws aiming for the Conn-Pod. Beomgyu yells or thinks _sword, sword_ , runs it through Lunabone’s neck and Soobin empties the canon’s clip on its face. It shrieks, twitches once, twice. Falls. Wisp of phosphorescent blue make the black water look beautiful, a stream of fireflies or fairy lights just under the surface.

They load the cannon once more. Settle back into a defensive stance, place the sword in front of them. Their breathing is a ticking clock on his ears.

LOCCENT is silent. Until, “ _Kaiju_ signature is gone. You’ve made it.”

The cheers from the command room are loud on his headset. It’s the one of the best sounds he’s ever heard. Marshal Hyun’s voice comes through the intercom, soft and firm among the uproar of victory. “Good work, Rangers. Come home.”

Soobin kisses him first, knowing Beomgyu won’t. It’s a flurry of people when they land back on the bay, engineers cleanly taking his spinal clamp, unhooking him from their Jaeger. The Drift is so loud between the two of them still, it sings _we’re alive, we’re alive, we’re alive_ in dulcet tones alternating in desperation and incredulity. The second he’s let go of, he’s in Soobin’s space, impossible to ignore.

Beomgyu hugs him. Layers of circuits and latex encase them firmly to their own bodies yet Soobin can still feel his heartbeat as if they were skin to skin. He steps back a mere centimeter, looks up at him, glassy eyes and too-hard bitten lips, messy hair and breathes out, “Soobin.”

The weight of it gives him shivers. Soobin caresses his cheek and he leans into it, closing his eyes with a sigh. Beomgyu’s the softest thing he’s ever touched.

So, he leans in and kisses him. Swallows the surprised gasp from his lips like saltwater, not caring about choking on it, enjoying the burn. Beomgyu’s thumbs draw circles on the back of his neck and Soobin can’t hold him close enough.

They hold hands all the way to the decontamination zone, during the post-attack debrief in Marshal Hyun’s office with the rest of the rangers and LOCCENT’s Mission Controller along with Jade Viper’s head engineer. Marshal Hyun keeps giving him reproachful looks and Soobin almost wants to be embarrassed by the way he’s shamelessly staring at his co-pilot, distracting himself from the conversation flowing around them about the success of their first drop; time taken, damage received, how long the repairs will take.

Light pools on his collarbones, on the hollow of his throat. Soobin wants to drink it.

After, Beomgyu guides him to their room by hand, purpose etched on every step. Just before opening the door, he looks back at him, almost shy. The Drift simmers, tangling them together, making it impossible to know where his own feelings end, where Beomgyu’s begin. They have the same under-current, the same intensity and fragility. A shelter from the storm. If he lets himself think about it – it could be love.

Beomgyu opens the door, and Soobin lets himself fall.

Later, when he’s lying on Soobin’s chest, the warmth of his skin engraving itself into Soobin’s, he asks, “Do you think we’ll win the war?”

The truth is: no one knows anything for certain. No matter how many equations are solved or analyses are made, no matter how many lives are lost, no one knows if there is even an end to begin with. They could die tomorrow, they could die in the battle that finally wins the war, they could do a thousand things and nothing would work, they could do nothing and a miracle could happen.

One of his fingers taps Soobin’s throat carefully, feather-like. He unfurls under his touch.

“I think we will,” Beomgyu whispers like a prayer, like a confession. He knows he believes it from the bottom of his heart and it makes something within him ache. He looks at his co-pilot and sees nothing but openness, trust. His eyes are so bright it hurts to look at him. “All sacrifices will be worth it in the end.”

Soobin thinks about the people who’ve lost their homes, their roots, thousands of families with no bodies to mourn for, no closure for their loved ones.

And yet, millions of people have found themselves in tragedy; risen above it and became the best version of themselves they could be; kinder, actively working together for the sake of a better future and a better world, even if it is short-lived, maybe specially then.

The sun’s rising, even if he can’t see it. They’ll have their interviews and their articles, the _how was it, the first time?_ And the world will move on. He pulls Beomgyu tighter against him, close enough to make the space between them meaningless. “I think we will, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> • Vladivostok’s Shatterdome housed all of the jaegers mentioned here plus an unnamed one, which i’m taking as Jade's stand in for canon.  
> • Pentecost’s’ and Jasper’s dialogue from the first vignette is mostly taken straight up from Pacific Rim: Tales of Year Zero. Pang Soyi and An Yuna are both characters in the Pacific Rim universe.  
> • For Reasons let’s pretend both hyuka’s sisters are older than him.  
> • Jaeger academy is really 6 months long. Absolute madmen I think.  
> • All kaiju names except from lunabone are taken from shin megami tensei: strange journey.  
> • Jade (yellow/blue for binnie’s fav colors) Viper (for bg’s Chinese zodiac)  
> • Liberties taken with the drift since it’s impossible to see someone’s full life in the ~30 or so seconds it takes for the bridge to load. The point is to make the neural load Bearable, not blowing up their brain in the first drift.  
> • The kaiju attacks happen a bit more often too. Give me a moment of disbelief pls…  
>   
> title is from of monsters and men _king & lionheart _. thank you so much for reading! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) i don’t think I’ll stop thinking about this one for a while. see you next time! ❤__


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